Comfort and Joy
by Vytina
Summary: The spirit of Christmas holds many meanings, and with each year it makes new promises for the future. A future that repeats the good and bad of the past, and promises to keep two lives joined forever more.


**A/N: Merry Christmas, one and all! I am proud to present my Christmas present to Miss Sweetbean, my dear friend and a true source of inspiration when it comes to my writings. In keeping with the true spirit of Christmas, I offer a little tale of discovering just what the meaning behind Christmas is. For each and every person whose life is touched by this special holiday, the Christmas spirit holds a different meaning, and for Terry McGinnis and Melanie Walker, Christmas may yet take on a whole new meaning.**

**Title: Comfort and Joy**

**Summary: The spirit of Christmas holds many meanings, and with each year it makes new promises for the future. A future that repeats the good and bad of the past, and promises to keep two lives joined forever more.**

**Character Pairing: Terry McGinnis x Melanie Walker**

**Rating: T **

**Disclaimer: I do not own any characters associated with Batman Beyond. Characters belong to DC Comics. I only own the idea for this story. Miss Sweetbean owns the inspiration for it.**

**MERRY CHRISTMAS! See you all in 2012!**

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><p>"<em>What is Christmas? It is tenderness for the past, courage for the present, hope for the future. It is a fervent wish that every cup may overflow with blessings rich and eternal, and that every path may lead to peace."<em>

_~ Agnes M. Pahro_

White. A thick blanket of powdered white stretching across every inch to be seen—buildings, cars, sidewalks, everything. It was a vision directly from a book, an image of soft purity and mesmerizing beauty. So strange that a city such as Gotham—one hardly known for innocence and an overwhelming sense of charm—could be graced with such marvel as this.

Melanie lifted her eyes to the sky outside, only a pane of glass between her and a thousand tiny crystals falling from clouded heavens above. A wondrous vision the likes of which she'd never witnessed before, save in a television production or a little storybook fit for childhood dreams. Her fingers carefully touched the glass for a moment, watching with almost childlike intrigue as it fogged up around the natural heat of her flesh, only to fade away the moment she pulled her hand back.

She moved back to her small desk, eyes drifting between the financial records currently set out before her and the crowds moving hurriedly to and fro outside the restaurant. Children clung to their mothers' hands, dressed in brightly colored scarves and mittens, their cheeks pink and flushed from the chill. Wide eyes searched all around, eager to take in all that could be seen in the holiday rush that gripped each and every citizen this time of year. Their boots left small imprints in the snow beside their parents' larger ones, crevices and cracks in an otherwise flawless blanket of crystalline white.

Her eyes turned back to the task at hand: computing the daily financial success for the restaurant before closing up and finally ending what had been the longest week of her life. Four years it had taken her to move up from a mere waitress to the top manager of the facility, and looking back on her previous service to the restaurant, she wasn't entirely sorry she hadn't spent three of those years with this particular responsibility. It was tedious and, frankly, more time-consuming than she particularly cared for. But, on the other hand, looking at the rewards was at least sometime uplifting for her money-oriented worries; her salary and the additional profits she'd earned from a few nights of covering as a waitress—even a full year out of the service hadn't compromised her ability to earn a few extra tips from the customers—would do well for her awaiting bills.

The music that newly-hired waitress Jacqueline had insisted on playing throughout the entire day continued to ring loud and strong, and in one twenty-four-hour period Melanie had learned every single Christmas carol that could possibly exist in the entire world. Learned and memorized, all quite against her will. _Tis the season_, Jacqueline had said with that gleaming smile and overly-cheerful demeanor that should have been deemed illegal at both early hours of the morning and late hours of the afternoon. _All part of the holiday spirit_, Jacqueline had declared with bountiful glee and eyes sparkling with childish joy that seemed quite inappropriate for a woman of nearly twenty-five.

Though...perhaps it was more depressing that a woman in her mid-twenties held a better sense of the _Christmas spirit_ than one who had just celebrated her twenty-second birthday not three months earlier.

She closed the computer screen with a low sigh, pressing both palms hard against her eyes and trying to rub away the glaring evidence of weariness and bone-tired exhaustion. Earning herself the manager's position had certainly been a perk in regards to the pay increase and the ascension from a worthless status as server for people who were, more often than not, quite ungrateful and disrespectful. She could recall several instances in which she'd had to soothe her brother's inflamed temper after a few unpleasant encounters, reminding him that to settle things in "the old-fashioned way" was only going to earn him a one-way ticket back to prison.

She'd felt quite like a hypocrite, of course. It wasn't as though she hadn't entertained similar thoughts on a more frequent basis than she really should have.

As she took a long moment to pause and examine the crowd still moving outside her window, she couldn't help but wonder just what this whole idea of the _Christmas spirit_ was all about. So far as she could tell, this was nothing more than an exaggerated excuse for companies to market their products, parents to buy said products, and for children to enjoy them no longer than a few weeks, before they would either break their so-called "treasures" or grow weary of them.

The storybooks of her youth, the ones she had read when neither parent was watching, spoke of some magical element to the whole Christmas spirit, how it could be found only in the heart of those who truly believed in it. But in the overly materialistic atmosphere that had surrounded her, first in childhood and even now in early adulthood, she could find nothing magical. Nothing that would fill her heart with this popular idea of warmth and joy and an overall sense of peace that would make everything in her life, no matter how dysfunctional or unpleasant it had been or would continue to be, seem perfect and wonderful, even for just for one day.

She drew her coat over a dark turtleneck and slacks, buttoning it up firmly before adding her scarf and gloves—a brilliant shade of turquoise that Jack had bought for her birthday to add a burst of color to an otherwise colorless scheme of attire. At least confident that she would remain warm for her journey home, she made her way to the door and, after securing the doors, out onto the streets. Normally, hailing a taxi would have been her routine, as it so often was, but tonight was different for reasons which she was not willing to properly examine.

Tonight...tonight just seemed a good night to walk home.

Any other night of the year, she would have never considered walking home after dark, especially not alone. But there was something about Christmas Eve in Gotham that seemed to dispel all threats. Maybe crime really did take a vacation during this season of _peace on earth_ and _goodwill toward men_. Or at least, if criminals didn't take a break as a whole, they were at least kind enough (if that was really the proper way to describe it) to leave most passerby alone and let them go on their way.

More likely than not, she was being overly optimistic. But, as they say, hope springs eternal.

Hands buried in her pockets, Melanie slowly made her way down the sidewalk, her own boots leaving imprints to join the multitude already visible in the soft white powder. The mind-boggling array of color danced across the snowy grounds, gleaming bright from the lights strewn across nearly every inch of the city. Alleys that normally fell dark and warned away any passerby were filled with light, disallowing the normal fear of venturing down such a path. Fear itself was scarcely present, not in the midst of such vibrancy and radiant declaration of life and light.

Melanie paused in her walk, pale blue eyes landing on a family across the street—the picture-perfect image of familial love and support, with mother and father walking hand-in-hand, occasionally turning to look at each other with nothing less than pure love and adoration in their eyes. Their lips moved to meet in a soft kiss, short but ever true, before their attention turned to their daughter and son. The latter held the former's hand tightly within his own, clearly a few years older than her and moving with the demeanor of one who held his brotherly duties in the highest regard. His loving protection did not (and perhaps never would) go unappreciated; his sister's eyes were filled with the same adoring glow that their mother bestowed upon their father, and as they idly moved down the snowy walk, she clutched at his hand with a gleeful laugh that brought a smile to his own face.

Something tightened in her chest as she surveyed the scene. It was almost as though she'd fallen into a parallel universe and had the unfortunate pleasure of witnessing her own family...as it could have been. What would it have been like to walk with her parents down a snow-covered path, holding her brother's hand and laughing without a care in the world? What would it have been like to look back and see her parents loving each other without condition?

What would it have been like to enjoy childhood, never fearing the future consequences of a family with such overbearing expectations?

The little girl's eyes suddenly turned to Melanie, her gaze bright and her smile nearly infectious. She lifted a small hand, covered in a soft pink mitten, and waved to the older woman. "Merry Christmas!" she called out, waving with such cheer and vigor that Melanie couldn't help but smile and lift her hand in return. The parents mimicked their daughter's smile and waved as well; the boy was quick to follow suit.

Four people, a loving family, waving and offering sincere wishes to a complete stranger? Words that, though sorely overused during this time of year, seemed to hold such honesty and genuine kindness when offered from the rosy lips of a child, her heart and mind clearly innocent to the injuries that could be offered by this world...was this the _Christmas spirit_, then? To offer kindness and compassion to those you didn't even know, to accept them without knowing anything about them, all because they happened to be walking down the same street as yourself?

It seemed absurd...and yet...

Her eyes lifted the darkened sky, the tiny star-like flakes standing out even clearer against the inky canvas above in their slow, graceful descent. A few came to rest upon her cheeks and lips, clinging even to the feathery brush of eyelashes made accessible when she closed her eyes. She stood perfectly still, feeling the chill of winter coil around her protected form, stroking through the loose mane of platinum hair and bringing the strands against her neck and shoulders with a deliberate gust. All around her lingered the sounds of children laughing, music drifting forth from the stores and homes, footsteps moving through the powdery blanket of snow...even the jingling of bells and lights as they moved with the swirling wind.

She opened her eyes again, finding the family had moved further away. Yet even with the distance between them, it was almost as though the girl could feel Melanie's eyes upon her, for she turned with a rustling of dark brown curls to glance over her shoulder. Her smile spilling over into her soft blue depths, she lifted her hand once more and waved. This time, Melanie lifted her hand with purpose and returned the smile. A second's pause, and then she found her voice, even if the child was too far away to hear it.

"Merry Christmas." The words didn't seem quite so foreign this time.

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><p>The apartment was dark, as she expected. Her eyes had long-since become quite skilled at adjusting to darkness, and it was without effort that she removed her coat, scarf, and gloves, returning them to the proper place in the small entry closet. After slipping her boots off (she didn't need to be tracking puddles across the floor), she moved across the short hallway and toward the living room, hands already searching for the light switch. As she rounded the corner, however, she found she didn't need it.<p>

The living room was all-but flooded in light. Light stemming from the tree set up near the far wall, much smaller in stature than the one positioned in the middle of downtown but nevertheless large enough to make its presence known in the small room. And if the tree hadn't been big enough, the decorations adorning every inch of the green foliage certainly helped the job along. Lights of nearly every color—white, red, green, blue, even a light shade of gold—were draped along the branches, illuminating both a well-rounded silhouette and the ornaments hanging from the tips. Ornaments of all shapes and sizes, some large and some small, round and square and even some that were akin to diamonds and other rare stones. And to complete the overall image, a five-point star, gold and gleaming with a brilliant light that seemed to steal away even the glory of the other decorations.

A safe distance away, the fireplace was alive with a large flame, merrily crackling and spreading amber shadows across the floor to mingle with the brightly-colored gleams from the tree. It didn't even seem like her home...it was something straight out of her childhood stories. An image that belonged to a wholesome image of love and happiness, not this small (albeit appropriately sized) apartment just a few blocks shy of downtown Gotham. She felt dazed by the mere brilliance of it all...and simultaneously flooded with a strange warmth that was quite different from the heat of the nearby fire.

From behind the tree, a figure slowly emerged, instantly recognizable in the flood of light. A smile firmly set upon his lips, Terry observed his lover's expression with great amusement and no small sense of pride. "Welcome home," he said, leaning against the wall with hands loosely tucked in his pockets.

"Terry..." her voice was nearly breathless for a minute before she seemed to regain composure, "this is...how did you—_when_ did you do this? I thought you were working tonight."

"Well," his smile only grew as he slowly moved forward, "it seems the Christmas spirit touched the hearts of our more colorful citizens, and in the absence of a need to put on the suit, I decided to give you a surprise."

"Well, you certainly did a great job..." she lifted a hand to her hair, unconsciously running it through her hair before sliding it back down her face and setting quivering fingers over her lips, unable to keep the smile from blossoming across her features. "It's just...beautiful, Terry. It's truly beautiful. I can't even express how happy this makes me."

"Good," he finally closed the distance between them and drew her close with his arms around her waist, "The look on your face had be concerned for a little while."

She shook her head, accepting a brief kiss before pulling back, "But...why?"

Terry moved his hands to her shoulders, cupping them tenderly and bringing her even closer to set a kiss upon her brow, "I know you never really had a Christmas growing up...and I know you never really got to understand what it meant to _know_ Christmas or what Christmas can mean. I just wanted to let you taste a little bit of a real Christmas."

Her eyes lifted to his face, her smile soft. "And...just what does Christmas mean, Terry?"

He shook his head, still smiling. "There is no set meaning for Christmas, Melanie. You let it hold whatever meaning it will, and that's all that matters. For some, it's all about giving as many gifts as possible and getting back as much as you give. For others, it's about getting away from the rush of everyday life and taking some time for themselves. And then for some others, it's about spreading whatever they think is the _true meaning_ of Christmas."

From his pocket, Terry slowly withdrew his hand and extended it to Melanie. Her eyes lowered down to his palm and felt her breath leave her in a gasp. There in his hand, attached to a thin silver chain, was a ring. The silver band caught the tree lights and flickering gleam of fire upon its sleek surface, though not nearly as much as the ruby set upon the center, flanked by two small opals. Simple in its design, breathtaking in its entirety. She nearly trembled at the mere sight of it, and her hands were shaking as she reached out to trace a single finger along the circular structure.

"Terry..."

"Others," he continued, taking the chain and carefully draping it over her neck, smoothing the strands of hair aside and silently relishing the now-familiar silken feel against his fingers, "let this time of year be one for looking back over the past, the good and the bad...and looking forward to the future."

Her hand carefully weighed the ring in her palm, heart thrumming frantically within her chest. "And what do you see for the future?" she asked in a breathless whisper, feeling warm tears prick the corner of her eyes.

Terry's smile grew ever tender—an expression that had never and would never fail to spread warmth through her veins. "A future that promises to repeat both the good and the bad of the past...and keep our paths joined, no matter what may come our way."

"Keep our paths joined..." she repeated softly, touching the ring once more where it rested at her breast as a pair of tears streaked down her smiling face, "for better or worse..."

"In sickness and in health," he nodded, smile growing as he leaned ever closer, "And long after even death does us part."

She laughed aloud, eyes shining with the gleam of both tears and her smile, "Now you're just dipping into age-old cliches, Terry." she shook her head, never once losing the joy of her expression. For all she cared, he could start reciting poetry just for the sake of romantic intentions.

"Miss Walker," he replied, bringing her flush against him with arms winding tightly around her curves, "it is Christmas, and I will be as damn cliched as I please. I only get to be this way with you one day out of the year, after all."

Melanie laughed again, this time stealing a kiss from those smiling lips she adored beyond all others. Lips she was never going to lose again, just like she was never going to lose any part of their owner. "Indeed," she murmured, "and if this is going to be our tradition from henceforth...I think I just might be able to formulate my own sense of Christmas spirit."

"And what would that be, pray tell?"

Another kiss, this one laced with more passion than before. Her fingers curled in his dark hair, eyes still bright in the presence of so much light, yet gleaming with another light—one with which he was quite familiar and eagerly anticipated its promises. Promises that offered rewards to which he could place eternal claim and relish forever more, each time more than the first.

"A time of year," she murmured, "when our lives can be perfect, no matter how dysfunctional or abnormal, no matter how much toil and strife we face on a daily basis, and no matter how many times we are tempted to give up the fight. A time when our lives and everything about them can finally be right. Even if it's only for a little while...they can be exactly what they need to be."

Terry smiled, cradling her face in his palms and resting his forehead to hers. "Merry Christmas, Melanie."

"Yes," she nodded, setting her lips to his for a lingering moment with adoration and love, the kiss soft but ever true, "it is."


End file.
